


Sweet Certain Surprise

by andachippedcup



Series: andachippedcup's Olicity Summer Sizzle Fics [6]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Birthday, Birthday Fluff, Birthday Sex, F/M, Fluff without Plot, Surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-23 06:08:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20003572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andachippedcup/pseuds/andachippedcup
Summary: Felicity comes home to a dark house and a disarmed security system and fears the worst. Little does she know what's waiting for her in her bedroom.[Olicity Summer Sizzle Weekly Challenge - Felicity's Birthday]





	Sweet Certain Surprise

Even with Oliver home, Felicity can’t quite relax. 

It’s been a glorious week - seven uninterrupted days - since Oliver was released from Slabside. And in that time, Felicity has delighted in resuming their version of normal life. She sleeps and actually rests, knowing he’s lying beside her and not in a prison cell.

But for all the comfort that his return home has brought her, she still can’t quite let go of the nagging fear that someone or something will find them. Sure, Diaz has been taken off of the board but there’s  _ always _ another threat. And if fighting and running from Diaz has taught her anything, it’s that she can never be too vigilant when it comes to keeping her family safe. 

So when Felicity comes home to the loft and finds the security system offline and the entire loft dark, her heart begins to hammer. 

Why is the security system offline? She’d made modifications after the last time Diaz surprised her, back when she was the pink haired, punky Erin. Has someone found a way to circumvent her protocols? Has someone snuck in here and done something to Oliver? 

_ Oliver _ . 

Her heart begins to race faster now. She’s too afraid of drawing attention to herself to call out to him. But no way in hell is she leaving without him. If her man is in here, she's going to find him, damn it. 

Her handgun is inside the drawer of Oliver's nightstand. He's still not happy that she has it, but she's about to put it to good use. But she’s at the front door, and their bedroom is an entire, darkened loft of unknown inhabitants away. Until she can get to her gun, she needs some sort of weapon. 

The best she can do is an umbrella out of the umbrella stand near the front door for now though. She grabs it by the wooden handle and brandishes it before her as she slinks down the hallway. She's vibrating with tension; her heart is pounding in her ears and her entire body feels electric. One movement in the shadows, one small noise, and she’ll jump out of her skin. 

_ Breathe _ . She tells herself.  _ You’re no good to Oliver if you give yourself a panic attack before you can help him _ . 

She is Felicity Megan Smoak-Queen. She went toe to toe with Ricardo Diaz and inflicted enough damage to stall long enough for reinforcements. She might not be a fighter, but she’s not ‘nothing’ either. And if there is someone or something threatening her family, she’ll do whatever it takes to see her loved ones safe. 

With quiet, careful steps, she moves past the kitchen. She doesn’t see signs of a struggle but she does see signs of shopping. The reusable bags are hanging off the barstools but other than that, nothing seems amiss. 

_ Where is Oliver?  _

Her grip on the umbrella tightens and she moves deeper into her home. As she rounds the corner to face the door that leads to her bedroom, Felicity stops dead in her tracks.

Their bedroom door is closed. They aren’t prone to closing it unless William is home and they’re asleep or otherwise  _ occupied _ , but William is still safely ensconced at his boarding school and neither she nor Oliver have shut the bedroom door in the last week, no matter what activity is or is not taking place within. 

Her skin prickles uneasily. This could be a trap. This could portend any number of disastrous things. But she’s got to investigate it. What other choice is there? She’s got to find Oliver. 

She tiptoes right up to the door, breathing shallowly and as quietly as she can given her rampant fear. The room within is dark and she hesitates to open the door, terrified of what she might find. The lightswitch for the room will be a single step past the doorway but Felicity’s not sure she wants to turn it on; what if she’s guessed wrong and the people who have broken in  _ aren’t  _ hiding in their bedroom? Turning on the lights will be a giant neon flashing sign informing them of where to find her. 

She’s going to have to do this in the dark, with only the light from outside the windows to guide her. So be it. Oliver manages to operate in the dark all the time. She just has to channel  _ him _ .

Her hand lights gently on the handle and Felicity holds her breath as she turns it with painstaking slowness, careful not to make a sound as she feels the bolt slide free and clear of the latch. There’s nothing left to do but open the door. 

She does it in one swift motion as she simultaneously steps into the room, her eyes sweeping to and fro. There’s motion ahead of her and she sees a shadowy figure coming towards her. Something small moves at her feet and there’s movement from elsewhere, deeper within the room. There’s no time to think, no time to process. She simply reacts on gut instinct. 

Felicity hoists the umbrella over her head and brings it down with all the might she can muster over the head of her would be attacker. She clocks him hard in the temple, the blow reverberating through her arms with the sheer force of it. 

There’s a yelp of surprise and the shadow shouts her name. 

“Felicity! Stop, it’s me!” 

Belatedly, Felicity realizes she knows the voice of her shadowy almost-assailant.

The lights click on to reveal Oliver clutching his head with one hand, the remote for their bedroom overhead lights in his other hand. 

“Oliver?!” She gasps in surprise and relief as the umbrella slips from her hand. She rushes forward to embrace him and it’s only as he hugs her to him one handed that she processes the rest of the scene.

He’s naked, for one. That is one surprising,  _ highly distracting  _ detail. For another thing, their bedroom is filled with balloons that bob about joyfully at the edges of the room, and there’s a trail of rose petals on the floor leading to their bed. The comforter itself is covered in a regular deluge of red and white petals

The movement she saw? Just the balloons. The things moving at her feet? Just the rose petals. The shadowy figure coming towards her? Her naked husband.  _ Oops _ . 

“Oliver,  _ what is going on _ ?!” She queries in confusion as she steps away from him, looking him in the face with a concentrated effort (she’s been without him for months; it’s hard not to gawk at how damn  _ good  _ he looks, even with his bruises and healing wounds). 

“I was trying to surprise you.” He winces, still clutching his head as he sits down heavily on the bed, a wave of petals fluttering to the floor in his wake. “It was a stupid idea, I should have thought about how traumatic it might be to come home to a dark, empty house. That one’s on me.” He explains apologetically. Through his fingers, she can already see a large welt rising where she clocked him with the umbrella.  _ Just what he needs. ANOTHER bruise,  _ she mentally berates herself, mortified that she tried to take out her husband when he was just trying to surprise her. 

“Well, mission accomplished, you nearly gave me a heart attack. I thought someone broke in and was holding you hostage!” She admonishes him halfheartedly, feeling too guilty over having played whack-a-mole on his head to really chastise him for having scared her so. She stands over him, trying to judge just how badly she’s hurt him. Probably, she’s hurt his pride more than anything, but that’s poor comfort given what he’s been through within the last year. She doesn’t want to hurt any bit of him, from his pride to the hairs on his head. 

“I was  _ trying  _ to throw you a surprise birthday party.” He explains with a wince and Felicity pauses, confused. 

“Oliver…  _ it’s January _ . Babe… my birthday is in July.” 

“Yeah, but I was in Slabside for your last birthday. So we’re celebrating a little belatedly.” 

Six months belatedly, but who’s counting. She arches a brow at him and a smile steals slowly across her face. 

“You wanted to celebrate my birthday now, because you missed my last one, and the best way to do that was to sit naked in our room in the dark?” She can’t help but tease him; it’s an interesting choice. And not one she’s at all opposed to.

“Well, I also had wine and chocolate dipped strawberries on standby.” Oliver defends, motioning across the room to their dresser, where the wine bottle sits waiting alongside two matched glasses and a plate of chocolate dipped strawberries. 

“Mmm. Not bad, Mister Queen.” A smile curves her lips as she leans down to him, her hands resting on his shoulders as she melts into him. He smiles and leans into the kiss, the hand cradling his head falling away to play idly with the hem of her blouse, his fingers skimming across her midriff. The kiss goes on for a time, both of them enjoying the lazy but sweet intimacy of it. When they break apart, she presses a gentle kiss to the goose egg growing out of his head.

“I’m going to get you some ice.” She offers, beginning to step away from him, only for him to stop her by grabbing her hand with his.

“It’s alright; I’m fine.” He assures her and she frowns at him, unconvinced.

“You’ve got a baseball sized bump growing out of your head, Oliver.” She reminds him and he just chuckles. 

“I’ve survived worse.” 

She stares him down with narrowed eyes and a suspicious expression, but eventually she relents. No need to bruise his ego even worse by disregarding his wishes on this. Even if she  _ is  _ right - which make no mistake, she is. 

He gets back onto his feet before her, taking her hands in his for a moment as he stares at her smilingly. 

“Well, it didn’t go according to plan. But I hope this is at least an  _ okay _ birthday surprise.” He murmurs self consciously. 

“This is a _ very _ good birthday surprise. Dare I say great.” She assures him quickly, giving his hands a firm squeeze of reassurance. And it’s true - he’s taken her completely by surprise, even if she did almost beat him bloody with an umbrella because of it. 

“Minus the minor concussion, I think I did alright.” His snort of laughter makes her heart swell because that ease and that comfort? That’s been missing from him this last week and she delights in seeing it back. That level of relaxation he’s displaying? That’s perhaps the best gift he could give her.

Well, that and him being in his birthday suit. She can’t deny, that’s a damn good surprise too. And it never gets old, no matter how many times she sees it. If that’s not a timeless gift, she doesn’t know what is. 

His hands frame her waist as they kiss again and this time he’s a little more bold, a little more animated. His hands rove and he gives her ass a roguish grab. She inhales sharply in response, smiling against his lips. She does love it when he goes wild over her; he has a certain way of behaving that makes her feel so downright attractive, it’s a serious ego boost and it makes her feel feminine and powerful and  _ frack _ . He’s giving her his best bedroom eyes right now.

She goes weak in the knees for his bedroom eyes.

“There’s just one problem,” Felicity points out and Oliver freezes, pulling away from her a little so that he can look her in the eye, his expression fraught with concern.

“What’s that?” 

Oh what a handsome, stupid lug. She’s only teasing but god, he’s so invested in her happiness the mere implication that something isn’t perfect has him ready to spiral. Her sweet, silly husband. 

“I’m overdressed.” She whispers to him, watching as the concern in his eyes is extinguished and replaced with a sparkle of mischief and lust.

“I can help you with that.” 

“Somehow, I thought you might.” She chuckles, going up for another kiss, only for him to lift his hands to her face, effectively stopping her. Delicately, he removes her glasses and  _ frack.  _ She finds something deliciously appealing about him taking the time to remove her glasses with so much care. It’s a little thing but the consideration it belies has always stirred her in the best possible way. Leave it to Oliver to make taking glasses off downright  _ sexy _ .

“Am I going to get this again for my birthday this year?” The faux innocent inquiry is met with a smirk and he shakes his head in amusement at her. 

“I wouldn’t want to repeat a gift. That’s not classy.” He murmurs before he kisses his way down her throat and along her clavicle, brushing her hair out of the way as he goes. Felicity arches into him, delighting in the sensation of his lips and his scruff against her skin, soft and rough in alternating, opposing sensations. 

“You have my blessing to repeat this gift every year for the rest of our lives.” She sighs as he peels her top up and, with her willing assistance, draws it over her head and flings it aside. 

“Let’s go somewhere for your next birthday.” He suggests and she hums enthusiastically in reply. 

“Aruba?” She suggests and Oliver makes a gutteral noise because  _ yes.  _

“That sounds nice.” 

“I thought you’d say that.” She laughs as his arms come up around her and he hoists her off of the ground and into his steady embrace. Leaning over him, her hair falls like a curtain around their faces and she can only smile as she stares down into his twinkling eyes. 

They’re good at this. The obvious ‘this’ being what they’re about to do, sure. But the gentle banter, the quiet plans and hopes and dreams as they continue to build their lives together? 

They’re great at that. And she loves that they’re back to doing that, after so many months growing apart. Whatever roadblocks and bumps lie ahead as they reacquaint, she has to believe that they won’t ever lose this. She hopes they won’t. Because as great as they are at the physical intimacy (and they are  _ damn  _ good at that), they’re even better at the emotional intimacy. And that’s pretty sexy too, if you ask her. 

As he lays her out on their bed, he kisses her so thoroughly that she’s gasping for air when they part. Satisfied, he grins down at her and then holds up a single finger.

“Give me one second.” 

He disappears, leaving her flushed, breathing heavily, and half naked on their bed. When he reappears though, she can’t help but laugh.

He’s got a party hat on and he’s holding up a plastic tiara that says ‘Birthday Girl’, with the most ridiculous, boyish grin on his face. There’s nothing for it but to put the tiara on because seriously, how can she not humor him when he’s this ridiculously adorable? 

Her flats and skinny jeans come off next and when he kneels over her again, her hand goes gently to his face, hovering over the large lump that’s formed from her attack on him. They share a knowing look and a smile.

“Small price to pay for a near perfect birthday surprise for the love of my life.” He remarks and he’s so  _ soft _ and so  _ vulnerable _ . She wants to bottle this moment, this mood, and hold onto it forever. These perfect moments never last, least of all in this life they’ve chosen to lead. But that just makes them all the more precious. She’ll hold onto this one forever. 

Her hands splay across the muscled planes of his abdomen, delighting in every toned inch. How did she get so lucky? She may never know. 

“You know, we didn’t  _ really _ get to celebrate your birthday last year - your trial was kind of a giant buzzkill.” She reminds him, her voice a throaty whisper as she lays there before him, dressed only in her underthings. 

“I do recall that, yes. So?” 

“So… I think it’s time you opened up  _ your  _ belated birthday gift, Oliver.” 

She arches a brow at him playfully and he stares down at her in surprise before a slow, wide smile steals across his face, completely banishing the shadows and the uncertainty that have dwelled there ever since he got out of Slabside. 

“I love you.” 

“I love you too, Oliver.” She echoes, her hand cupping the side of his face before she pulls him to her and they kiss again, this time more feverishly. They’ve done enough talking; their heart rates are both up, the blood is pumping and she can feel the building need in every touch and every lingering kiss. His tongue strokes hers eagerly and she returns the favor, all too ready to get to celebrating properly. 

He breaks away from her suddenly, his eyes all a-twinkle as his hands go to the hem of her black lace panties (she mentally praises herself for choosing the  _ cute  _ underwear to wear today). 

“Happy belated Birthday, Felicity.” 

And it really is. If this is how her birthdays are going to be from now on, Felicity’s A-okay with  _ every _ day being her birthday.


End file.
